Black Bird
by ItWritesStuff
Summary: He thawed the ice in her heart. She put out the fire in his. Nerida Vulchanova/Godric Gryffindor. Durmstrang-Hogwarts founders era. Slightly AU.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So I'm having trouble with my other stories. They're getting increasingly difficult to write, even though I enjoy writing them and have more or less mapped them out to the very last chapter. I figured it's the pair and general storylines I usually work with, so I decided to play with other pairs and ideas lying around to sort of get a break from Hermione/Viktor.

Nerida Vulchanova is the founder of Durmstrang Institute. Unfortunately she's not listed as a character here in Fanfiction, but somehow her descendants are, which is a shame because she's perhaps one of the most mysterious, interesting characters out there and I've only found one fanfic dedicated to her. So yea, she's not an OC. I don't own any of the characters in this story, except for one but he's kind of a minor character and- eh, we'll talk about him when we get there. Anyway, thought I'd mention that to clear up any future misunderstandings. Second, this story is slightly AU as Harry Potter Wiki claims that Vulchanova was born at least a thousand years after Gryffindor.

The story takes place before Slytherin left Hogwarts. He's a notorious basilisk breeder and Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff are aware of his ideologies but he hasn't yet started proposing that they 'cleanse' the school of muggles and half-bloods.

That is all, I believe. I hope you enjoy this strange, random little concoction of mine that I am oddly proud of.

* * *

Salazar had warned him. Rowena had threatened him with her usual choice of elegant, sophisticated words. The two founders disagreed on many things but they always managed to put their differences behind them when it comes to chastising Godric. Sweet Helga would usually take his side, but this time the renowned herbologist shied guiltily behind an exasperated Salazar and a furious Rowena.

They were to receive envoys from the newly established wizarding school somewhere in the Nordic regions. It had been Rowena's idea to establish a relationship with the only other wizarding school in all of Europe, and as usual Rowena's ideas were received well by the other three founders, however it took Salazar over a year of correspondence with the Headmaster's aide to finally convince them to accept the invitation. It gave Salazar the impression that they're extremely cautious and reserved and maybe even a little bit skittish, therefore it's imperative that they are to be received and treated as if they were priceless silverware.

Godric was especially asked to behave himself. He didn't understand why and he took great offence at the implication. He's the mighty Godric Gryffindor, one of the four founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and notorious slayer of trolls, not some pathetic bumbling schoolboy!

He stormed into his favorite tavern and took his frustration at his friends' lack of trust out on all the ale he could drink. He was going to return after his third pitcher but then a beautiful woman with rather impressive, barely concealed breasts took an interest in him and his adventures. Godric loves talking about his adventures. He often speaks of them when no one asks so when someone actually _does_ ask, there's no stopping him. Before he knew it he had an audience. He lost track of the amount of pitchers he downed. The beautiful, busty woman had moved onto his lap and silenced his drunken ramblings with the sweetest kiss, sending the equally drunken men around them into a roar of approval. She then led him into her quarters, stumbling and groping and giggling, and for the rest of the night she made him a very happy man.

He didn't know which to blame, the beautiful woman or the ale that likely replaced the blood in his veins, but he's sure that one or both caused him to wake from his deep slumber late in the morning on the day he and his colleagues were meant to receive the envoys, _not_ his usual rash and irresponsible ways.

He barged into his study wearing nothing but his stained tunic. His great red mane and beard were a tangled mess and he's certain that he's omitting the most foul odor. Much to his horror, he found that his colleagues and the two envoys were apparently meeting in _his_ study. Worse yet, the envoys turned out to be the aide Salazar spoke of and the Headmaster.

 _Headmistress,_ he suddenly realized. A very beautiful, tall woman with steel for eyes. Her robes, all black with a heavy fur cloak fastened over her shoulders, covered every inch of her skin save for her hands and the upper half of her neck. A grey banner with a large two-headed black bird was stitched onto her breast, and one sharp look from her had him flushing and quickly averting his eyes from that particular area. Her dark hair was braided and pinned to her scalp with not a single strand out of place, and unlike the woman he bedded the night before she lacked the soft round curves and sultry smile. If anything she looked like she hadn't eaten or smiled her entire life, but somehow she still managed to look powerful and domineering in the way she looked disdainfully down at him.

She was granite cloaked in darkness, yet like the sun she struck him blind with only one look.

"Godric, so good of you to join us!" Helga, bless her heart, attempted to break the chilling silence that settled over them with a nervous laugh. She ushered Godric to come closer. He obeyed meekly, suddenly very aware of the fact that he hadn't even bothered to wear his boots. "Headmistress Nerida Vulchanova and her aide Harfang Munter from Durmstrang Institute."

He hadn't even noticed the aide, a small yet sharp looking man with speedily receding grey hair. Godric kept his eyes on Vulchanova. He gave her his best charming smile and bowed low, then hurriedly straightened himself when he felt a cold breeze caress his backside.

"An honor, my lady," he said.

She regarded him icily, then turned to Rowena. "Who is this jester?" she spoke with a notably thick accent, but it was more Balkan than Nordic.

"Why, Lady Vulchanova!" Munter cut in quickly, nervously. "That is Godric Gryffindor!"

Godric puffed up his chest, proud of the announcement despite his current state. Still she didn't look impressed.

"Please allow me to apologise on Sir Gryffindor's behalf," said Rowena smoothly, sparing Munter a haughty glare. She always hated it when people interrupted her or spoke for her. "I assure you that this is a first. I have known him for many years and I have never once seen him in a less than presentable state." She was also capable of uttering a convincing lie. "I am certain that there's a very good reason as to why he chose to present himself in this manner _today of all days._ "

The look she gave Godric told him that she'll castrate him on the spot if he doesn't come up with a good story. Helga looked extremely worried while Salazar smirked to himself, happy as always to watch his notoriously brave friend miserably squirm his way out of trouble.

Godric glared at him, envious for once of Slytherin's sharp tongue, then turned back to his guests with another charming grin. "Lady Ravenclaw is right, of course. You see, I was strolling along–"

Vulchanova was having none of it. "I wish to retire."

He blinked in shock, his mouth hanging open mid-speech. Rowena furiously gestured for him to close his mouth.

"But the feast!" said Helga anxiously. "You've come a long way, my dear, surely you'd like to have lunch first?"

She was already on her way out. "You are right. I come a long way. I wish to rest."

"Alright, very well," said Rowena quickly before Helga could protest. "Allow me to take you to your quarters."

"There will be no need for that. My lodgings on board are adequate enough."

 _On board?_ Godric rushed to the window and, sure enough, a large ship was docked on the shores of Black Lake. _How the bloody hell did I miss that?_

"But Lady Vulchanova, we prepared–"

"And I thank you for your hospitality," she said, pausing by the doorway to glance back at a flustered Rowena, "but I must decline. I am more comfortable on my ship." She then looked at Munter. He quickly scurried after her, bowing to the four founders in what appeared to be an apologetic manner.

Rowena rounded on him when Vulchanova and Munter's voices faded into the distance, her fury now on full display. Godric nearly flinched. "What. Happened?"

Godric looked at Salazar for help. Salazar shook his head. "Please. I want to hear this."

"Oh dear, I hope we didn't offend them," said Helga, staring out the window at the two distant figures. "The aide at least was willing to cooperate, but it's the Headmistress we must convince." She then turned to Godric with an anguished expression that made him look away in shame. He absolutely hated upsetting Helga. "Oh Godric, you must make it up to her! This school, Durmstrang, it's the only other school that accepts our kind. We need to be friends with them for the sake of the children!"

He couldn't take it anymore. He took her hands in his large, callus ones and kissed them. "Of course, dear Helga, of course! The last thing I'd ever want to do is cause you misery. I will do whatever it takes to right this wrong, you have my word!"

"So you will apologise?" asked Rowena, her beautiful face stern. Godric was relieved she didn't insist on hearing the story behind his embarrassing, disheveled state.

He grinned. "Better. I will hunt."

Salazar sniggered. "Just when I though your antics couldn't get any more amusing. At heart you are a jester indeed, my friend."

Godric ignored him. "I will provide the meat for the feast tonight. A boar, the biggest these forests could offer, and my elves' finest wine."

Helga looked happy. Rowena has yet to forgive him. Salazar always loved that what his friend lacked in patience, logic, and critical thinking he made up for in bravery and brute strength. It never failed to provide him with endless entertainment, and as much as he'd like to impress their guests, he couldn't help but eagerly anticipate the feast for all the reasons Rowena dreaded.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: So I sent an email regarding Vulchanova's missing name from the character listing (thank you, otherrealmwriter!) I have yet to receive a reply and at this rate I highly I doubt I will, but then again I've had issues in the past that urgently needed to be looked at and FF wasn't responding even then. It was worth a try anyway...

* * *

Godric returned from his hunt victorious. He had never once failed in his life, for hunting comes as naturally to him as dueling and magic, but this time he was especially proud of his trophy. He made a grand entrance to the Great Hall where his colleagues, their guests, and students were all waiting. The hall erupted into loud hoots and cheers at the sight of the great slain sow. The loudest and most boisterous were from his house and from Helga, and from the rest he received a polite round of applause, but he was especially pleased to see that even Vulchanova clapped despite being impassive still.

It didn't take long for the elves to season and cook the beast's flesh. The tender meat combined with his elves' wine made for perhaps one of the most delicious meals his hunt has ever provided. He was so taken with pride that halfway through he rose from his chair and started recounting the story of his hunt, with mild exaggeration when he noticed Vulchanova inclining her head ever so slightly towards him. It didn't take long for him to entrap the entire hall into his story, for he does this far too often so he developed a natural flare for it. That, and the beast was accompanied by a litter of young piglets so she was especially vicious.

At the end of his story he received another round of applause. He grinned and bowed at his students, to which his house responded with another loud cheer. When he turned towards the staff table his eyes sought Vulchanova hoping to find approval after their disastrous first meeting, but instead he saw that she had barely touched the meat on her plate. Worse yet, she was staring at him as if he were the lowest, most vile creature she's ever seen.

He looked down at himself. He had made sure to wear his best robes of crimson and gold before coming. He had even showered and combed his hair. It was as stubborn as he and it kept puffing up like a lion's mane no matter how hard he tried to tame it, but besides that he was perfectly presentable. He was more or less dressed in the same manner as Salazar, albeit extravagantly and with a few extra sprays of his lady friends' favourite cologne. He couldn't think of anything that might've offended her this time.

He approached her after the feast.

"Was the meat not to your liking, my lady?" he asked, then quickly regretted it. Until he said it Rowena hadn't noticed Vulchanova's change in attitude and now he's got her full attention.

"It is not to my taste," she said.

He waited for her to continue, but her annoyance with his general presence only seemed to increase. Once again he felt awkward and completely out of his element. "Er… the house elves… they would've been happy to… to serve you whatever it is you desire."

She turned to him with another one of her withering looks that never failed to make him want to crumble on the spot. "The animal was distressed. The meat is spoilt."

He frowned. What exactly has she been eating? He thought the meat was perfect. "Surely, my lady, you didn't expect the sow to simply accept her fate? Even beasts aren't foolish enough to sneer at the face of death."

Something told him that he just said the wrong thing. He didn't need to check with Rowena to know. Vulchanova did not seem like the kind of woman that hides her emotions behind masks like his other lady friends. She was like Rowena, but perhaps not as articulate and infinitely bolder. He found himself admiring that Rowena-yet-not trait of hers despite his current predicament.

"The animal was in distress," she repeated slowly, as if to a child. There was surprising, slight tenderness in her voice when she spoke again but towards Godric it felt like multiple spears getting rammed into his pride. "The sow you _oh so bravely_ hunted was protecting her young. Tell me, Sir Gryffindor. Did you kill the little ones, too, or did you leave them to the mercy of the forest?"

He faltered, feeling pathetic and small and utterly embarrassed with himself. "Of– of course not! What would I ever do with the litter? They're wild, my lady, not to be raised in a farm."

"I see. So they are all alone now in a world full of beasts dressed in fancy robes."

He shook his head. She may disarm him however many times she liked, but he was still Godric Gryffindor and he wasn't going down without a fight. He saw Rowena shaking her head at him from the corner of his eyes but he ignored her. His wounded pride needed mending. "My lady, that's just the way the world is, the way our Lord intended for it to be. Why, if we were to consider the babe of every beast slain for every feast held we'd all starve! It's the law of nature. The strongest must always prevail."

"Prevail and _protect_ ," she said with passion, squaring her shoulders and standing tall against him. Her answer itself sent a shock through him, made him clamp his mouth shut and swallow his tongue. "And I wouldn't dispute those laws you speak of as long as the battle is fair, but in this instance it is not." She had taken on the role of a cruel, particularly beautiful judge and he could do nothing but stand there like a fool and take her verdict word for word. "You challenged a mother protecting her young, not a raging boar that charged at you. You had the advantage of magic and perhaps that sword you carry around, whereas the mother only had her strength and her will to keep her little ones safe. Your objective was to fill your belly and ego. Hers was to keep her offspring alive, as every mother would. She died in distress, in pain from her physical wounds and from the knowledge that her litter will not live long after her, and you, the tormenter, stand there and boast about this battle as if it was hard-earned when you knew from the very beginning that you had all the advantages."

"M-my lady, if I may–"

Her icy stare was enough to silence him once more. Her aide looked absolutely perturbed with the whole situation but not quite daring enough to put an end to it. "I think I have heard enough of your bravery for one day, Sir Gryffindor."

She stalked away without another word, followed closely by her aide and by every single pair of eyes close by, including Godric's.

"You said you were going to handle this!" hissed Rowena when they all later congregated at Godric's personal study. "Honestly, Godric! Must I always interfere and talk on your behalf? For once I thought I'd rely on you to fix your own bloody mistakes but now I'm faced with an even bigger problem. We'll never convince her to cooperate!"

"I'm beginning to think that we shouldn't," said Salazar. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but Godric might have just done us all a favour with this one."

"Salazar, don't you dare try to defend him!"

"Believe me, I wouldn't if I didn't have to."

"Stop it, both of you!" Helga cut in, looking formidable despite her soft features, short height and teary eyes. "You're being terribly unfair towards Godric. He tried his best. He didn't mean to offend her."

Rowena wasn't convinced. "He could've kept his bloody mouth shut about the hunt."

Salazar snorted. "If you know of a method please feel free to share. I've been trying for _years._ "

"He's a story teller! An adventurer!" said Helga in his defence, waving her small arms in frustration. "It's what makes him who he is. It would be like telling you to stop breeding snakes."

"Basilisks, dear Helga."

She flushed. "W-well, it's still a weird hobby!"

Salazar smiled in amusement. He had words about the sort of plants she nurtures in her own garden, but he ultimately decided against voicing them. It wouldn't do to offend her when his own supply was running low.

Rowena noticed that Godric has been eerily silent throughout their argument. He was pacing behind his desk with a deep frown on his face. The Godric she's always known was anything _but_ silent especially when accusations were being hurled his way, or better yet, whenever Helga steps up in his defence. Even when he's not in any way involved in the conversation, he will always have something to say and he'll say it no matter what or who tries to stop him.

Was he perhaps feeling a bit remorseful for the many blunders he's committed thus far?

No. Definitely not. This is Godric Gryffindor.

Rowena couldn't take anymore of his silence. "Well? What do you have to say for yourself?"

He stopped. He had his back to them. He took a deep, unnecessarily prolonged breath. "She thinks I'm a coward."

They exchanged looks. Even Salazar was taken aback.

" _Me,_ a coward!" he added, spinning in a flurry of blinding red and gold to face them, his normally bright and cheery face contorted into something mad and utterly concerning.

"W-well, we certainly don't think so!" said Helga resolutely, looking at Rowena and Salazar for confirmation.

Rowena shook her head. She knew how much that particular title meant to Godric, and outright disputing such claims makes him more reckless than he normally is. She most certainly doesn't want that. "Y-yes, of course. This is all just a terrible misunderstanding. You needn't worry about her anymore. I shall speak with her first thing in the morning."

"What you really should've done in the first place," added Salazar. "Entertainment-wise you were impeccable, Godric, but otherwise you're struggling with this woman."

"You're not helping!" hissed Helga, glaring at the taller wizard. "He tried really, _really_ hard this time. _I_ thought the feast was wonderful."

"Oh I do too, believe me, but I also think that it failed. For all we know Vulchanova could very well be sailing back home as we speak."

Godric made an angry sound. He pulled his sword from its ruby-crusted sheath and swung it at a stool that happened to be in his way, successfully splitting it in two. "That woman is impossible!"

Impossible and infuriating and absolutely ravishing and he'd do _anything_ to have her in his bed, except say that out loud in the presence of his colleagues. No woman has ever challenged him the way she did and it excites him just as much as it maddens him.

Salazar looked at the stool Godric cut through with a rather bored expression, as opposed to Helga's shock and Rowena's contempt. "This is precisely why I forbid you from brining that monstrosity into my study."

Godric slid his sword back in its sheath and stormed past his friends and towards the door without another word, yanking it open with almost enough force to remove it from its hinges.

"Where are you going at this hour?" asked Helga, concerned. "It's too dark out, Godric, who knows what's–"

"I beg of you, sweet lady, leave me be for now," he said by the doorway without looking back, knowing that one look at Helga's pleading face will have him retreating from his mission. "Lady Vulchanova is right. I have made a… cowardly decision in my hunt. I must rectify the situation, for my own sake if not for the future of this school."

"How is another hunt going to help in any way?" demanded Rowena. "Just let me handle things from here."

"I am not hunting, dearest Rowena." He braced himself. "I will find the piglets I've orphaned and raise them as my own."

Salazar outright laughed at that. "Oh come now, dear friend, there's no need to resort to such dire remedies! Surely you've got a bastard or two loitering around somewhere dreaming of carrying your great name?"

Godric slammed the door hard behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

With his remaining strength waning by every breath he took somehow Godric still managed to grab a rock and toss it towards the direction of the retreating animal.

"Come back here and finish me, you coward!" he wheezed, coughing up more blood. "I am Godric Gryffindor. How dare you leave me to die like this?"

The stag stopped to look at Godric, his ears twitching and his black eyes curious and tame now that he had successfully eliminated the threat. The creature would've looked mighty majestic had it not been for his blood-coated antlers that held on to bits of Godric's robes. Godric would've even taken a moment to admire his beauty had the very same creature not just mercilessly gutted him.

"I will not have your pity!" he said, his eyes darting to his sword and wand cast a great distance away from him. How very foolish he had been to abandon them. "I deserve a proper death."

The stag turned his head from the scene and continued his journey into the forest.

Godric lay on his back with a snarl, glaring at the reddening sky above him signaling the approach of dawn. His hand clutched the gaping wound on his stomach in hopes of slowing the bleeding, but the blood continued gushing freely from between his fingers. He attempted summoning his wand but it barely budged from its place on the earth.

He cursed, pounding the earth with his free hand. He couldn't die, not now and especially not like this. He would lose his bet with Salazar. If he dies first doing something stupid and dangerous and unnecessary, as Salazar puts it, Salazar inherits all of Godric's wealth and estates in England. If one of Salazar's basilisks kills him first then Godric gets Slytherin's wealth and estates in Ireland. Helga was understandably very upset with the both of them when she heard. Godric suspects that Rowena's faith lies with Salazar.

He couldn't lose to Slytherin. He had to survive, somehow, and then resume his search of the damned litter for that insufferable woman that got him into this mess. Never mind that he was the one that chose to abandon his sword and wand when he accidentally stumbled upon the grazing stag just to prove to Vulchanova that all the talk she's heard of his strength and courage is legitimate, and that he could take out a fearsome beast with his own bare hands. He realised how truly impulsive and stupid the idea was when the stag's bone-white, sharp antlers pierced him.

Just when he thought things couldn't get any worse, it started to rain. Hard.

 _Bloody Scots and their weather,_ was the last thought that crossed his mind before darkness swallowed the sight and sounds of the forest around him.

He came to hours later when the sun was shining bright above him. He was greeted with the rather familiar sight of a two-headed black bird stitched on grey. With some difficulty he lifted a hand and traced his bloodied fingers over the sigil. A sharp intake of breath followed by a hard slap to the face brought his remaining senses back to life.

"Really, Godric?!" came Helga's voice, beyond hysteric. "That's all you can think of at a time like this?"

He panicked for a moment, thinking that he had accidentally groped Helga, which would later warrant undeniably painful hexes from Salazar, but then his vision finally cleared to reveal none other than Vulchanova's marble-carved face glaring down at him.

He should've apologized. Normally he would, and he had intended to, but instead he wailed: "How could you strike a dying man?"

Vulchanova responded by slapping him again, nearly rendering him blind with the force.

"What on Earth were you thinking, Godric?" sobbed Helga as she continued grinding several unidentifiable leaves in her stone bowl. "Were you even thinking at all? If we hadn't thought of looking for you–" she choked, unable to continue the sentence. "H-hold him still, Nerida dear, this will sting."

Vulchanova carefully eased his head from her lap so she could hover above him and pin his shoulders to the ground. Godric lifted himself on his elbows before she could fully restrain him. He saw that his robes have been ripped and discarded so that Helga could clean his wounds more easily. Her puffy red eyes and tear-streaked face was a more painful sight than the stag's antlers in his gut.

He was so overcome with shame and grief that he had nearly forgotten about the pain.

"Oh sweet Lady, how can I ever–"

Vulchanova forcefully shoved him back onto the ground before he could finish his monologue. With her knees keeping his shoulders pinned to the ground she used her free hands to lock his wrists above his head, all the while being careful as to not apply any pressure on his chest. He was stunned that someone as thin and frail looking as her was strong enough to overpower a man twice her size using only her strength and weight. That or he had gotten so weak that he'd likely lose to a rabbit, but at the moment he didn't care to throw her off anyway. He was too distracted by the fact that her face was mere inches from his. Never mind that the expression her face held was hate itself, if the circumstances were different and if he had his renowned strength he'd kiss her right then and there.

"Don't move," she warned. He grinned. She narrowed her grey eyes at him.

Helga's concoction worked fast on him. Just as Vulchanova tightened her hold on his wrists he felt a searing hot pain spread from the wound all the way to his fingertips.

"Merlin's cunt!" he cursed, struggling underneath Vulchanova, all inappropriate thoughts of her immediately discarded.

"Language!" Helga scolded.

He could've sworn he saw the corners of Vulchanova's lips twitching ever so slightly. His usually strong and vivid memory offered him nothing else.

* * *

A/N: apologies for the short and rather fast-paced chapter. This scene was difficult to write despite it's short length so really I'm just glad I finally got to post it.


	4. Chapter 4

Helga was anxious with anticipation. Godric could hear her pacing by the foot of his bed. "How much longer?"

"Soon enough, Lady Helga." Rowena offered in comfort somewhere near him.

Salazar sounded like he was still moving and rearranging items in the potions cabinet. "This is the last time I let Godric's bloody house elves touch anything that isn't his."

Godric felt himself smiling. He had always thought Salazar's obsession with tidiness amusing. He had long ago told his elves to intentionally mess with the order in which Salazar arranged certain items for Godric's own amusement. He had planned on telling them to stop at some point, but then decided against it. He figured he might as well enjoy the show while Salazar is still in the dark.

"You know what they say about house elves," said Rowena, her voice amused. "Their behaviour is but a reflection of their master's whims."

"It's truly concerning when said master's whims have the potential to impale him at best." He paused. "Lady Helga, will you please stop pacing?"

"I just don't understand! He should've been awake hours ago."

"A volcanic eruption could hardly wake Godric on a regular day. He's in an induced healing slumber. Give him some time."

"But he's already fully healed!"

"And by default that should give you no reason to fret. Besides, he's already awake thinking of the many ways he could woo Lady Vulchanova."

"Get the bloody hell out of my head, you serpent-tongued menace!" Godric blurted before he could stop himself, glaring hard at the smirking blond by the potions cabinet.

Rowena rose to her feet, looking furious and absolutely scandalised. "So it's true!"

Helga barrelled into his arms before he could utter a word in defence. "Oh Godric, I was so worried!" she said, pulling back to look at him, the shadows under her soft brown eyes and gaunt cheeks increasing Godric's guilt by tenfold. "How are you feeling?"

"Lady Helga, please show some decency," said Salazar gently but with a slight frown on his face.

Godric grabbed her small hands in his larger ones and brought them to his lips. "I owe you a great debt for saving my life. From this day forth I shall be at your beck and call. If there is anything I can do for you, sweet lady, anything at all to make up for the grief that I've caused you, I want you to name it for I can never apologise enough."

"As you can see, Lady Helga, our Godric is doing very well," said Salazar, rushing over to ease Helga off the bed.

She flushed. "Well you didn't exactly see him lying unconscious in the middle of the forest bleeding to death, now did you?"

"Can't be as bad as seeing him naked twice in a fortnight."

Godric frowned, then looked down to find himself bare-chested. He grabbed a fistful of the sheets covering his lower body and pulled them back, suddenly curious of his injuries. He was relieved to see that the greatest indication of his manhood was without a single scratch.

"Oh for goodness' sake, Godric, show some decency!" shrilled Rowena, looking away and blushing red.

"Make that thrice in a fortnight," Salazar corrected himself.

Helga was the only one that seemed indifferent of Godric's nakedness. She tutted and pulled the covers over his chest. "Your _other_ vital organs are also perfectly intact, in case you're wondering."

Salazar smiled. "I do love it when you talk like that."

"Only because I've been spending too much time with you," she said with a grin.

"Well _I_ cherish your company."

"I do too, especially when you dress as nicely as you do right now," she said, giving his form an appreciative look. Salazar was very pleased with her praise.

It was then Godric noticed that Salazar was wearing one of his best robes. He had also combed his blond hair and trimmed his beard short. His favourite golden locket with the serpentine 'S' glittering in green precious stones was hanging over his chest.

Godric felt his heart swell with joy for his friend. Could it be that a lady had finally caught Salazar's fancy?

"Godric, do I want to know why you're staring at me like that?" asked Salazar, looking like he'd rather not know.

Godric grinned. "Does this very fortunate young lady have a name?"

Helga giggled. "Oh Godric, we have much to catch up on indeed!"

Salazar sighed ruefully. "I shouldn't have asked."

Godric laughed heartily. "Come now, dear friend, you don't have to be so bashful around your own friends! I know a man in love when I see one."

"You clearly don't," said Rowena, rolling her eyes. "He's looking his best today because I asked him to."

"If my memory serves me correct, Lady Rowena, you demanded rather than asked," said Salazar contemptuously. "I will perform my duty as requested, but I stand by what I said. This whole partnership with Nerida Vulchanova and Durmstrang Institute is a terrible idea."

Godric frowned, looking between the other three founders with confusion. He noticed Helga looking especially bashful. "What duty? Why haven't I been informed of these decisions you've all apparently been taking without me?"

"Off with your dramatics, Godric," said Rowena. "You were half-dead, for goodness' sake! Important decisions couldn't wait for your recovery, so we had to take them on your behalf."

"We would never converge behind your back, Godric!" said Helga imploringly. "We didn't have a choice this time. Lady Vulchanova was going to leave. We had to act fast."

A great panic was set in Godric's very core. He sat up and took Helga's hands in his once more, now looking desperately back at her. "And you stopped her?"

"You're welcome," drawled Salazar.

"Salazar managed to convince Harfang Munter to stay, who later somehow managed to convince the Lady Vulchanova to give Hogwarts a second chance," explained Rowena.

Rowena then told Godric all about how they reached the conclusion that their only hope of ever forming a decent relationship with Durmstrang Institute lies with Salazar's charms. He was thus delegated the task of influencing their guests' final verdict to their advantage by showcasing the school's most prized assets, while Godric was especially asked to never approach Vulchanova or Munter throughout the duration of their visit and to only speak to them when asked to by the other three founders. He was also told to abandon his search of the wild piglets whose mother he slew.

"It's what got us searching for you in the forest," explained Helga. "You see, Lady Vulchanova had already found the little ones by the time you left. All eight piglets survived! Can you believe it? Well, one was rather sickly so she brought him to me to nurture back to health. She's been helping me build them a home ever since. They've grown quite attached to her! They follow her everywhere they could."

He blinked. "And no one thought to inform me of this?"

"That's why we came to the forest looking for you," she said defensively. "We were going to tell you that we found them and that they're all safe."

He shook his head. "This is the last time I'm taking an antler for a woman," he grumbled. Then he remembered his friends' decision to bar him from approaching said woman.

"Don't you dare," warned Rowena, as if she just read his mind. "Lady Vulchanova herself has no desire to speak with you."

"Only because of a terrible misunderstanding!" he said. Rowena raised a brow. He flushed. " _Several_ terrible misunderstandings. You cannot possibly ask me to leave things as they are. My reputation is at stake, Lady Rowena! Surely you'd understand?"

She sighed, for once looking sympathetic. "I do understand how important it is to you, Sir Godric, but we're walking on thin ice as it is. We must trudge carefully, so for the meantime I will have to ask you to please keep your distance."

"Or maybe he shouldn't," said Salazar, stroking his beard thoughtfully. He wasn't deterred by the scathing look Rowena sent his way. "I say we let him do what he wants."

Godric gaped at Slytherin. He was half tempted to pinch himself, just to _really_ make sure that he wasn't still unconscious because surely Salazar didn't just take his side in an argument.

"We are _not_ having this discussion," said Rowena with finality, narrowing her eyes defiantly at the much taller man. "It's imperative that we establish a bond with Durmstrang Institute and as one of Hogwarts' founders it is your duty to assist in every way possible."

"I am not denying that responsibility, Lady Rowena, I'm just saying that Lady Vulchanova is not to be trusted. She is hiding something, and whatever it may be I assure you that it is most definitely worth hiding."

"And you promised you wouldn't try to look into her mind, especially not without her knowledge and consent," said Helga disapprovingly. "That was awfully rude of you!"

For a moment Godric thought he saw something akin to guilt flickering across Salazar's face. He looked away before Godric could read anymore into it. "I didn't have a choice. I wish I could make you understand, Lady Helga, I truly do for if you did you wouldn't reprimand me as much as you do right now, but I will say this: Nerida Vulchanova is too guarded."

"Naturally," said Rowena. "Wouldn't you be cautious when surrounded by complete strangers in a foreign land so far away from home?"

He shook his head, looking exasperated, like he's already explained himself a thousand times before. "You don't understand. She knows that one of us is a Ligilimens. She doesn't appear to know which one in specific, but she's done her research on us and she's trained her mind to hide a grave secret."

"You have no solid proof to back this up," argued Rowena.

"I was in her mind, Rowena."

"That still doesn't prove anything. This secret of hers might be something _personal_ rather than dangerous."

"And that's precisely why you must never do it again," said Helga, placing her hands on her hips. "An honourable gentleman does not look into a lady's private thoughts without her knowledge and permission."

"And yet he still did even when we specifically told him not to," added Rowena, receiving Salazar's sharp look unflinchingly. "I fear that you're becoming worst than Godric, Salazar."

"What is that supposed to mean?" demanded Godric before Salazar could speak, having grown far too agitated in his silence. "I still don't see why I can't make amends with Lady Vulchanova, or how you expect Salazar to win her over when we all know that I have a better chance and a far more promising history with the fairer sex!"

"Oh you definitely have a history with women," grumbled Rowena.

Salazar snorted. "I don't believe we ought to call it history just yet, as that would imply that our dear Godric had gotten past that phase when we all know for a fact that he's been living in it since boyhood."

Godric glowered at him. "At least _I_ have some experience in that particular field."

Salazar raised a single eyebrow. "And what made you think I don't?"

"The fact that I've never actually seen you with a woman, you bloody pompous Irishman."

"There's no grace in airing one's dirty undergarments, Godric."

"Ha, says the virgin that has never even glanced a single naked breast!"

Helga, beet red, had had enough of this talk. She put herself between the two men. "Stop it right now, both of you!"

"She's right. You're both acting like little schoolboys and it's unbecoming of men of your age and prominence," scolded Rowena.

"And there's absolutely no shame in saving oneself for marriage," added Helga in Salazar's defence, making him pinch the bridge of his nose as Godric outright laughed at that.

"Both of you will cease and desist," demanded Rowena, looking at them the same way she would her misbehaving students. Salazar opened his mouth to rebel but she was quicker. " _You_ , Salazar, will continue entertaining Lady Vulchanova and her aide while Godric avoids them as he would an epidemic. This is our final verdict and I will hear no more on the subject from either one of you. Understood?"

"I have a right to cleanse my sullied name!" boomed Godric, attempting to look domineering despite the state he was in. "You cannot deny me this, Lady Rowena!"

"I can and I most certainly will, Sir Godric, and if I so much as suspect you attempting to seduce Lady Vulchanova I will have you removed from the premises."

Godric flushed in embarrassment. "Must you believe everything Salazar utters? I do not fancy Lady Vulchanova. Quite the opposite, actually, especially considering that it's her fault I'm incarcerated in this–"

"It was thanks to her you're alive today, Godric," said Helga in her defence, cutting him off mid-rant.

"I'd say it was your unrelenting efforts, Lady Helga, but I suppose Lady Vulchanova was helpful when needed," added Salazar. "Also Godric I thought you were nearly killed by a deer, not Lady Vulchanova."

" _Stag,"_ Godric corrected, glaring daggers at Salazar, "and a bloody savage one at that. He had antlers made for killing, that beast!"

"Naturally."

"Who's side are you on?"

"You know I'm always on the winning side, Godric."

"Have you no honour? Does my friendship hold no value?"

"Right now your friendship is costing me my liberty."

"At the expense of this school's future, which I'm sure is far more important to both of you than anything else in the world," said Rowena, staring at both men expectantly.

Godric bristled at that. "I told you I have absolutely no interest in pursuing Lady Vulchanova! Why should I anyway when I can have any other woman? She's not even my type to begin with! I like my women beautiful and soft and _approachable_ and she's stiffer than a cane with hardly any proper feminine qualities to make up for it."

"It might have escaped your notice, Sir Gryffindor, but I am not here for your viewing pleasure."

Godric bit back a yelp. It sounded like something Rowena might say but he knew it wasn't her; otherwise she wouldn't be looking at him with murder in her icy blue eyes. Lady Vulchanova stood by the entrance of the infirmary with her aide, having entered unannounced and unnoticed, and both looked very displeased with what they heard coming from Godric. It didn't help that Godric was immediately reminded of their encounter in the forest where for a short while he was close enough to feel her breath on his face.

She didn't give him the opportunity to apologise or to explain himself. She looked at Salazar. "I would like to have that tour now, Lord Slytherin."

Salazar smiled pleasantly. "As you wish, my lady."

"Lord Slytherin?" Godric echoed, looking at Salazar incredulously.

"Yes, Godric, that would be my official title," said Salazar, fixing his robes once before walking to Lady Vulchanova and offering her his arm. "But I'd rather we skip the formalities, Lady Vulchanova, especially if we are aiming to establish a strong and long-lasting friendship."

She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. "And yet you continue being so formal with me, Lord Slytherin."

"A gentleman never addresses a lady using her first name without her sound consent."

"Your customs are odd," she said. Her lips quirked into a small smile. "Nerida."

He gave her one of his charming smiles. "You have a lovely name, Lady Nerida."

They left in higher spirits with Salazar. Rowena looked pleased with the outcome while Helga gushed at Salazar's ease and prowess with people. It paved the way for an outcome Godric had previously rendered nearly impossible to achieve.

It occurred to Godric that he had never once seen Vulchanova smile, not even with Helga whom she seemed to like most. For the first time in his life he was overcome with envy of Salazar's elegance and classically handsome looks that induced such results from an otherwise unrelenting woman, but Godric Gryffindor was never one to surrender easily especially when it comes to the women he desires and especially to Salazar whom he knows will use this particular triumph to his advantage in future arguments. He can only hope that Rowena will forgive his transgression.

* * *

A/N: I am very much convinced that Salazar Slytherin was a Lord at some point, because he wouldn't be who he is if he didn't strive to climb the tallest ladder there is. Also he's _definitely_ not a virgin.


	5. Chapter 5

"Fiend!" Godric bellowed, rising to his full towering height and slamming his fist on the table. "How dare you spit on my friendship!"

Salazar caught the slip of paper that flew from the pile before him and glanced at it with disinterest. "Oh would you look at this. That McLaggen student of yours has failed to submit a decent essay yet again. Can't say I'm surprised. "

"He's your student too, you know. You ought to teach him instead of intimidating him for belonging in Godric's house," chided Helga next to him, taking the paper from his hands to look over it. She grimaced. "Although I suppose you're right about this one."

"Tell me, Salazar, what more do I have to do to convince you?" demanded Godric, his face red with rage. "You know exactly how much value I place on my honor and that of my father and his fathers. You must give me the chance to rectify the situation with Lady Vulchanova, as a favor to a friend if not for the sake of common decency! Surely your love for me, however deeply buried it is in that cold black heart of yours, feels the slightest bit compelled to ease my torment?"

"Godric."

Godric beamed. He clamped a hand on Salazar's shoulder hard enough to ruffle his hair and knock the wind out of him. Sometimes Godric doesn't know his own strength, and in such occasions Salazar hates him most. "I knew there was goodness in you after all! Thank you ever so much for relenting."

"I was not," said Salazar, shooting Godric a sharp look before smoothing his fingers through his tousled locks. "I was going to ask you to kindly stop talking. Lady Helga and I are trying to fix the mess you've made with our assignments in your ill-revised scheme to have our joint potions lesson postponed."

Helga tutted, looking over the piles before them that have yet to be touched. "You've made quite the mess this time. You know you could've just asked me for help."

"I know I could always count on you, sweet lady," said Godric, slumping dejectedly back into his chair. "It is this man I used to call _friend."_ He glared at Salazar.

Salazar rolled his eyes and pushed a relatively tall stack of papers towards the fiery founder. "Just make yourself useful for once and help us undo this mess you've created before I am to meet with Lady Vulchanova. You ought to be thankful that Helga and I are keeping this from Rowena."

Godric grumbled but started undoing the stack anyway. He frowned. " _Why_ are you keeping this from Lady Rowena?"

Salazar huffed in his growing frustration with the extra workload and the perpetrator's inability to stay quiet. He was half tempted to send him away, or to hex him into silence, but instead he turned towards him and said: "because, _friend,_ doing so might inspire Lady Rowena to delegate even more responsibilities towards me regarding Lady Vulchanova and I see enough of her as it is."

"Then let me take her off your hands for a few hours!" he all but pleaded, abandoning the task at hand yet again. "That's all I ask, Salazar. It's all I need! I promise you she will be out of your finely kept hair in no time."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Godric."

"I'm certain it's flattery that made you a Lord, Slytherin!"

"That my friend is called tact, of which you lack."

He glared scathingly at his friend. "And who are you to tell?"

"An unwilling witness to the many incidents that took place because you chose to consult that thing between your legs rather than your head."

"Oh come now, Salazar, don't be so cruel!" interjected Helga, looking absolutely heartbroken. She placed her hand on Salazar's arm. He stubbornly kept his eyes on the papers before him, for like Rowena and Godric he is mostly weak to that particular pleading face of hers. "Don't you want to see new love blossom within these walls?"

Godric was so overtaken with gratitude and affection for Hufflepuff that he could do nothing but grin at her.

"The mere thought makes me ill," said Salazar. "Please don't, Lady Helga. I would hate to return the pecan pie you served at lunch in the most unflattering manner. It was quite delicious."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Lord Slytherin," she said with a smirk, wagging a finger at him.

He smiled. "I may be many things, Lady Hufflepuff, but a flatterer I am not."

"Oh _please_ just let me help him!" She moaned, now gripping his arm with both hands and leaning into him, making him almost knock the inkbottle over his students' assignments. "You don't even have to do anything, just look away and close your ears to our conversation!"

He eyed the full inkbottle warily then decided to remove it from Helga's reach. "Godric is much too loud to permit it."

Helga leaned away from her chair and into a rather awkward and unbecoming position for a lady of her stature to poke her head between Salazar's face and the inkbottle in his hand, making him curse and falter in his shock. She grinned, knowing full well that she'd won.

"Fine. _Fine!"_ he snapped, setting the inkbottle rather aggressively and pushing his chair back and rising to his feet, looking absolutely flustered. "But if Rowena asks I'm denying involvement."

Helga giggled. "I'll make sure they name their firstborn after you."

"I will have my entire name changed if they do." He narrowed his eyes at her before turning away from the grinning duo and marching towards the exist.

"Where are you going?" called Godric. There was still lots of paperwork to be done.

He yanked the door open and glared at him. Godric could've sworn he felt the chill even from the distance. "If you must know, _Sir Gryffindor_ , I'm getting wine."

Helga frowned. "But it's only noon."

"It is indeed and you, sweet lady, will share the bottle with me."

She raised her brows, shocked yet amused at his unusually brazen conduct. "And pray tell why would I do that?"

"Because it will be a bottle of rare and finely aged elf wine from Gryffindor's own cellar, of which he thinks he can conceal from me." He then smiled pleasantly at Godric. It hit him like a wall of bricks but he was too late to stop it. "The amount of time it will take me to Disapparate to and back from your cellar should be the same amount it will take lady Helga to reveal Lady Vulchanova's whereabouts. Think fast, Gryffindor!"

Godric was on his feet in an instant with a hand on the hilt of his sword, but Slytherin was already out. They heard the familiar 'pop' a moment later and it left Godric frozen in his place. He only had a few bottles of the wine Salazar spoke of. The brewery that made it was demolished and the bottles from that year were especially hard to come by. A few glasses would cost a man his fortune and Godric searched tirelessly for the few bottles he managed to obtain. He only drank a glass or two himself and he'd be damned if Salazar gets close enough to glimpse his precious wine, but on the other hand he might not get another chance to court Lady Vulchanova with Rowena's watchful eyes currently occupied at the other side of the country.

He sat back down with a defeated snarl. He shoved his sword back into its hilt. Somehow, someway, someday, he would get Salazar for this and he would get him _good._

The shelter Helga and Vulchanova had built for the orphaned piglets was big enough to house several horses, with a wide sturdy frame and a high glass ceiling. Godric had expected a proper pigsty that would surely stain his fine robes, not a grand clean stable fit for a lord. On the one hand he was impressed with the work the women had managed to do in such a short amount of time, but on the other he wished Helga had at least warned him in advance. The old robes he wore were faded and tattered and not remotely suitable for impressing a woman as difficult as Vulchanova.

He was about to turn back and change into better robes when he saw a swarm of Thestrals swooping in from the forest to the shelter, creating a large ring of black around it. Godric felt his heart sink to his stomach. That can't be good. He gets chills merely glimpsing the occasional lone ones during his hunts, let alone an entire herd so close to the castle. Without a second thought he took out his wand and charged towards the herd, expecting them to disperse or to prepare for a fight, but instead they remained in their position facing the shelter with their backs to him. It didn't take long for him to understand why.

He didn't know what to call the sound. It was a haunting melody, one he'd normally avoid, but it was drawing him in against his better judgment. He's heard the siren's call in the past (briefly, for Rowena was smart and quick to bind him and Salazar to a tree before rushing to save the villager boy from the siren's clutches) and it had blinded him to his surroundings and had forced his legs to move towards it, whereas this odd foreign song was much gentler in its persuasion.

The herd appeared to be as curious with the call, which got louder the closer he got to the shelter, but when one at the back sensed him approaching it immediately took flight, alerting the entire herd that were quick to follow it into the air and towards the forest.

The song ended abruptly, almost the same time the herd disappeared into the shadows beyond the trees. Godric stood before the double doors, stunned in dead silence before gathering his courage once again and pushing the doors open a crack. A startled squeal followed by a hard shove on the other side slammed the doors shut in Godric's face, knocking him straight to the ground. He clutched his bleeding nose and muttered several unspeakable obscenities before grabbing his wand and healing whatever damage the blow inflicted.

 _"_ _Godric!"_ he heard her hissing from the inside, scolding in her native tongue.

 _The bloody hell did I do now?_ He thought indignantly.

He heard several squeals and Vulchanova ushering the piglets away from the door before opening it herself. Godric sat up on the ground just in time to meet her apologetic gaze and proffered hand. "Please forgive me, Lord Salaz–" her expression turned cold when her eyes registered the individual glaring back at her. She quickly retrieved her hand and straightened up to stare haughtily down at him. "Sir Gryffindor. To what do I owe this…visit?"

"Well, if I may be frank–"

An angry fat piglet repeatedly ramming its head into the sole of his boot cut him off. He raised a brow at its continued effort to hurt Godric, then noticed its siblings cowering behind Vulchanova's robes. The smallest one, which he assumed to be the runt Helga helped nurse back to health, was cradled in her arms.

"It appears that Godric remembers you well, Sir Gryffindor," she said, staring at the valiant piglet in amusement while stroking the tiny one in her arms.

He glared at his persistent assailant. "And may I presume that Godric has been told of how I was nearly gutted looking for him and his siblings?" Then it occurred to him. He looked up at Vulchanova. "Forgive me, my lady, but I can't help but notice that the piglet and I share the same name."

She nodded, unfazed. "He was named in your honor."

"O-oh, is that so?" he said, unable to do much in his shock besides grin stupidly.

"Lord Salazar insisted."

"Ah, of course!" he chuckled. "That Salazar had me fooled! All this time I thought he took me for a joke. He must've been inspired by this creature's courage, to insist that he be named in my honor."

"No," she said bluntly, causing him to drop his large grin and all warm thoughts of his friend. "It's the way Godric always thrusts his head into solid objects for no apparent reason, except for this instance where he clearly feels the need to protect his siblings from his mother's killer."

He sighed. It appears that she wasn't willing to forget about that particular blunder of his anytime soon. He stood up slowly and dusted his robes. "Please, Lady Vulchanova," he began, looking imploringly at her even as Godric the feisty piglet found a target in the wizard's ankle. "I wish to apologize."

"And I wish to never speak with you."

It stung on a deeper level than he anticipated and he struggled to understand why. Contrary to popular belief, Godric Gryffindor had known rejection, but he never let it get in the way before. He'd normally proceed to court and charm his target until she softens and finds herself purring in his arms, but for some reason this time he could do or say nothing in return. He couldn't even look into her eyes, for they felt as cold and sharp and cruel as the steel of his sword against his foes.

"H-how are your wounds, Sir Gryffindor?" she asked after a lengthy silence.

He looked at her, startled at the nature of the question and the sudden change in tone. She was looking down at the small piglet in her arms, stroking him gently still, but her softened expression combined with her furrowed brows gave her away. Godric was shocked, and now even more ashamed of himself. Could it be that she held herself solely responsible for the injuries caused by one of his many follies?

He felt that she wouldn't appreciate him addressing her guilt, so instead he grinned broadly and patted his once gaping stomach reassuringly. "Tis but a scratch, my Lady." He saw the corner of her mouth twitching and he felt encouraged, even as Little Godric continued ramming his head into his ankle. "I was also awfully fortunate to have been found by you and Lady Helga. I don't believe I ever thanked you for saving my life."

"To put yourself in that situation was foolish enough, Sir Gryffindor."

He quickly bit back a retort. Rowena had already shut it down when he tried it with her and he's only just beginning to make some kind of progress with Vulchanova. He would be an even bigger fool to ruin what he's certain is his last chance with her.

"You're absolutely right, my lady," he said, bowing his head. "There are many things I ought to feel sorry for, but my greatest shame is the way in which I repaid your kindness by speaking of you in such vulgarity. It was uncalled for, even behind closed doors and in the presence of trusted friends, and for that I will humbly ask for your forgiveness."

She narrowed her eyes at him and he started to panic. Why can't he ever please this woman? "Sir Gryffindor, how often do you speak about women in private, and with such vulgarity as you've put it?"

Once again he had to fight the urge to defend his questionable behavior with the fairer sex. "Please, my Lady. I am a grown man, but I am learning still."

She regarded him for an interval, stroking the stripped bundle in her arms thoughtfully. "I do not trust your motives, Sir Gryffindor."

"B-but my Lady!" he sputtered helplessly, his carefully composed demeanor all but crumbling at her judgment.

"I was warned of you," she said, staring at him in the same scornful expression he never wanted to see directed towards him again. "I heard stories of your adventures and of your bravery, of the many lives you've fought hard to save, but I was also heard of your misdemeanors with women. Harfang and I sailed from a long distance, Sir Gryffindor, leaving the school for a whole year in the hands of a few trusted individuals. We did not take this risk just so I could be insulted at every turn and then made into one of your many disposable playthings."

She paused, either to collect her thoughts or to give him the opportunity to defend himself, which he wouldn't be able to no matter how much he desired it. Rowena had scolded him many times for it, but he never truly felt shame until the exact same words came out of Vulchanova's mouth.

"I appreciate you taking the time to come see me against your colleague's orders and to apologize," she continued, "but I cannot pretend to trust you after everything I've heard and saw, so I will ask you to please keep your distance. Should you abide by that I promise to not bring this visit to your colleagues' attention."

His shoulders slumped in defeat. He was too disinherited to even care if it reached Rowena's ears. In all his years he had never once seen himself for the vile person he truly is until the image was reflected back at him from the repulsion in Vulchanova's grey eyes.

"I will do as you say then, and pray that one day you will find it in your heart to forgive me," he said dejectedly, offering her one last bow before turning to leave.

He was suddenly reminded of the Thestrals and caught her just as she was about to close the double doors behind her. "One more thing, Lady Vulchanova, if you will!"

She frowned but lowered the runt onto the ground. It squealed in protest but she hushed it before gently ushering it indoors with the rest of its siblings and closing the door.

"Could you please refrain from singing that song in the future? It's attracting an alarming number of Thestrals into the grounds and I wouldn't want any of the students to encounter them."

Her brows knitted in confusion. "I don't understand. Lord Salazar said Thestrals live deep in the Dark Forest and hardly come near the edge."

"They appear to really like your singing."

"What sing– _oh_." She blushed. "You… you heard me."

He raised a brow. "Along with an entire herd, yes I heard your song."

Her blush deepened at that. She walked past him to look out into the edge of the forest some distance from where they were. "That would be _Kulning_ , Sir Gryffindor. It's an ancient herding call of Harfang's people. He taught it to me, but he always said I was no good."

He scoffed. "Harfang Munter is clearly mistaken, or possible deaf. I have never in my life seen Thestrals respond to anyone the way they did to your…" he strained to remember the word she used. "…Herding call, especially in such large numbers. They're very shy creatures."

Lord knows that Godric himself couldn't help but respond to it.

She was quiet. Godric feared that he may have somehow offended her again, but then she took a deep breath and the melancholic yet alluring melody streamed out of her lips and echoed into the distance.

"What on Earth do you think you're you doing?!" he hissed, rushing to stop her.

"Calling the herd," she said incredulously, looking at him as if she couldn't believe how obviously stupid his question was.

"Absolutely not," he said with rarely used authority. "Thestrals are a bad omen and I will not have coming near the castle."

She appeared shocked, either at his uncharacteristic sternness or at that particular statement. "Surely you're not one to believe in such silly superstitions, Sir Gryffindor."

"Known facts, my Lady," he corrected her. "It is also known that misfortune will befall on those that touch a Thestral."

She responded by glaring at him and then cupping her hands around her mouth to magnify her call.

"Enough!" he grabbed her wrist to yank one hand away from her mouth when he glimpsed shadows approaching from within the trees.

"I'll forgive you!" she declared, the desperation in her voice and her pleading eyes catching him off guard.

"My lady–!"

"I will forgive you," she repeated, this time with more conviction, "if you let me call them."

For all his flaws and weaknesses, Godric never failed to make the right decision especially when it concerned the safety of his friends and of his students. This time, however, he felt deeply conflicted and it had nothing to do with his own desperate desire to have her. He could tell that it was very important for her to see this.

For once he was not confident with his choice and he reckons it shows on his face, but slowly he released his tight hold on her wrist. She took a moment to study his face, perhaps expecting him to change his mind, but then she then turned back towards the forest and continued from where she left off. It didn't take long for the herd to return and encircle them once again, cautiously yet very curiously approaching Vulchanova. When the closest of the herd stood a foot from her her calls got reduced to a low hum. She allowed the creature to sniff the air around her face, as wide-eyed and entranced with the horrid thing as it was with her, and then slowly she lifted her hand to caress its neck.

"I wouldn't do that, my Lady," he urged quietly from behind her, his eyes flickering to the foal that seemed to take an interest in him. "They're quite vicious when provoked."

Before she could respond the Thestral nuzzled her cheek, making her squeal in surprise and then giggle when another came from behind her to playfully nip at her ear. Godric could only stare in silence with his mouth hanging open in a rather unflattering manner. The Thestrals' behavior was astounding enough on its own, perhaps even groundbreaking, but it was Vulchanova that rendered his vital senses momentarily useless. He had never seen this side of her before, in fact he never thought she had it in her to smile, and yet there she was standing right before him getting blissfully lost in the affections of Thestrals of all creatures, looking like his female students when they first glimpse a unicorn foal.

It was the first time he's seen her as she truly is, and he feels honored in being the only one. She had been pleasant with Salazar, kind to Helga, and there appeared to be some kind of an understanding between her and Rowena, but she always appeared to be too tense and composed even during the few times she smiled at Salazar. She never allowed herself to be as relaxed and cheerful as she is right now interacting with dark creatures even Godric avoids.

"You are a very odd woman, Lady Vulchanova," he murmured, smiling at the grotesque yet oddly beautiful sight.

That night Godric Gryffindor did two things he, and everyone he knew for that matter, didn't think he'd ever even contemplate doing. The first was giving his heart and mind to one woman. The second was petting a Thestral foal.

* * *

A/N: You can think of Kulning as a Swedish version of yodelling or hollering, but far more beautiful in my opinion. You can hear a Disney-fied version of it in the Frozen soundtrack and a rather aggressive version in some Viking episodes, but if you're looking for a more authentic track I'd recommend looking up Jonna Jinton on YouTube. It was used to call back herding animals like cows or goats, so I'm not sure if it'd work on lone wild animals, and since Thestrals are highly intelligent and sensitive to their surroundings (and to their owners, if they happen to be domesticated) and also known to live in large herds I figured they'd respond very well to it.

As for Vulchanova and Gryffindor easily seeing a Therstral... well I assumed that during the Middle Ages it'd be more common for people to see death, especially witches and wizards that are constantly being chased. That and it wouldn't make any sense for either two to NOT see a Thestral, as HP Wiki claims that both were very famous in their own region for their many achievements.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Apparently I had a complete chapter written, edited, and just waiting to be uploaded onto this site before I went on my 'break'. Sorry about that! On the other hand- two updates in a single week? Even if this update doesn't exactly count I shall call it a victory nonetheless!**

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Godric's courting of Vulchanova did not proceed as smoothly as he had anticipated after their last encounter. It did not even get the chance to blossom and Godric blames it all on two things, the first being Vulchanova herself for she may have forgiven him but she did not with the intention of giving him a second chance, but to maintain a civil relationship that consisted of nothing but the occasional passed greetings. She kept to Munter's company most, and the few times she's actually spoken to Godric she did for a few precious moments and only to enquire about Rowena's whereabouts.

The second culprit was the Forbidden Forest, or whatever the bloody hell was happening within that was driving all kinds of dangerous beasts towards the castle grounds, keeping all three remaining founders too preoccupied to entertain their guests or to teach their students.

To say that Godric was growing increasingly frustrated with all the distractions was most definitely an understatement. What's worse, Rowena was expected to return in the evening and in her last letter she had said that she carried terrible news.

He had finally slayed the last Acromantula. The thing couldn't have been very old, but it was rather strong for its age. Godric's sword was still buried in its belly. Its legs had stopped twitching some time ago, but Godric found himself too exhausted to remove his sword just yet. He gripped the sword's handle with both hands and leaned his forehead against his intertwined fingers, breathing hard.

"Getting old, are we?"

Godric lifted his head to glare at Salazar. "Where have you been?"

Salazar surveyed the clearing around Godric. It could no longer be defined as a clearing, not with all the Acromantula corpses covering every inch of the field. Had it been any other wizard, thought Salazar, most of the swarm would've lived to enjoy the morsel.

"We must retreat," he said, stepping around the corpses to reach Godric.

"There are _more_ of them?"

"Many more to come. I have just been to the nest. It's deserted, in fact has been for quite some time. We have to secure the borders."

Godric pulled his sword from the spider's belly. One of its legs jerked in response, but the beast was long gone and Godric now had greater concerns on his mind. "What of the children?"

"We send them home for the time being. I've already written to my house's guardians, and I took the liberty of doing the same for Lady Rowena's. I expect that arrangements are being made for their safe travel. I suggest you do the same, and Helga..." he shook his head. "I suppose it's best if I speak to Lady Helga."

Godric placed his hand on Salazar's shoulder just as he turned towards the castle, making him stop. "Not all of our students can go home, Salazar."

None of Slytherin's students were permanent residents of the castle. Godric thought it must've been difficult for him to part with them so many times, but now more than anything he envied his friend's ability to protect _all_ of his students at once.

"Then they stay at their own risk," he concluded in length.

"Have mercy, Salazar! They're children— _your_ students, too!"

"And I would rather have my students take their chances outside rather than face whatever it is causing all these disturbances in the forest," he said.

Godric's heart was heavy with grief when they reached the castle. Not even the sight of Vulchanova, the only one standing with the large herd of Thestrals, could lift his spirits.

The castle grounds were full of lost, confused, and mostly nervous creatures that were once living deep in the Dark Forest. Godric suspects that every last Thestral must be present, but there was also another large herd of unicorns, several different tribes of centaurs whose leaders were currently speaking with Helga, trolls cowering at the sight of Gryffindor's sword, rather agitated-looking Hippogriffs, and many more small critters hidden in the grass and between their much larger companions. The grounds simply weren't big enough to shelter creatures that didn't normally reside within each other's range. Godric was beginning to worry that they'll have much bigger problems to deal with than whatever beast was hidden in the forest if its original inhabitants don't return.

"I'd start writing those letters if I were you," said Salazar under his breath.

For once Godric didn't have a response. He marched ahead to where Helga was standing speaking with the centaur tribe leaders. Salazar wasn't too far behind, keen as he had always been to keep his distance from centaurs in most situations. This time Godric thought that that was the wisest choice of action, for the moment the centaurs felt them approaching they all stopped talking and turned towards Salazar with a look that wasn't particularly friendly.

That's not saying that they were ever friendly with Salazar, of course, just that this time one wrong word could potentially put a spear through his heart.

"What seems to be the problem?" asked Salazar coolly, standing with his hands folded at the front. To a casual observer it looked like a sign of submission, to show that he wasn't armed with a wand, but Godric and Helga knew that Salazar was very likely holding a vial of some horrible concoction to use if ( _when_ ) the situation escalates.

One centaur at the front, grey and strong and menacing, stepped forward. He stared hard at Salazar before extending his large fist. Salazar held out his hand. Eggshells landed at the center of his palm. Eggshells covered in a thin sheet of slime, Godric noticed upon closer inspection.

"In these lands there is only you," said the centaur, his voice trembling with anger. Salazar didn't say anything. He was staring at the eggshells with a deep frown on his face. "You have broken your vow with the Forest. You must pay the price."

"He has done no such thing!" said Helga shrilly; quickly putting herself between the two and making the centaur take an involuntary step back. "How _dare_ you make such accusations on _our_ property that you sought for refuge, and furthermore without proof!"

"He holds the evidence."

"We have students here! _Children!_ "

"He values the lives of only those that can withstand this evil."

"Salazar is not a murderer!"

"He has done it before."

Salazar's eyes flashed, angered not at the accusations but at the harsh reminder that silenced Helga. Godric and Rowena were not made aware of the details of the events that lead to the massacre of the small Welsh village where Helga and her family used to live, but they knew that it was done on Salazar's command and that it continues to haunt Helga to this day.

Salazar stepped around Helga and stood squarely before the tribe leader, who merely responded with a hostile huff. The crunch of the eggshells in his fists echoed in the empty forest behind them.

"I will bring the beast to you," he said slowly, his voice a low growl and his eyes blazing emerald flames against the darkness of the centaur's, "and you will see that I am innocent and you _will_ be indebted to me."

The centaur stomped his hoofs and neighed, as did his tribe in indignation and offense, but by then Salazar was already marching towards the forest.

It was then that Godric finally understood what they were talking about, and he was not as relieved as he thought he'd be. He had too many feelings coming for him at once. He was angry that his friend was being held accountable for something Godric knew he had no hand in, he was worried about Helga and what this encounter would do to her (assuming that she will have to encounter this beast), he was frustrated at his own inability to protect the ones he love, and most importantly for the first time in his life he wasn't so certain about his own future. As the centaur tribe leader had said, there were too many lives in the castle that could not withstand the evil in the forest. Unbeknownst to many, though, Godric's life was one of them.

"Sir Gryffindor."

Godric turned to the voice. Vulchanova, silent as always in her approach, now stood before him. Panic settled deep within his belly, for he was struck with the knowledge that _she_ may not be able to withstand this evil.

"I need answers, Sir Gryffindor," she said, growing quickly impatient with his silence. "What is plaguing the forest? What will be done about all of these creatures?"

Godric had always been persistent in his pursuits of glory, knowledge, and women. _Annoyingly_ so with the third, Salazar would add, but Rowena would always say that he's never once let his pursuits taint his honor. And he had coveted many things in his life, _desperately_ so, but there were times when he had to surrender them for the sake of the greater good and he has never failed to do so when the necessity called for it, because Godric may be thick and slow at times but he never was and he never will be a selfish man, so his answer to Vulchanova was not difficult to utter.

"Forgive me, my lady, but I must ask you to leave."

"I beg your pardon?"

He winced. He will always wonder how her tone sharpens faster than he does his sword. "I don't mean to offend–"

"I do not intend to overstay my welcome, Sir Gryffindor, but I will not leave without answers."

He sighed. The more he argued with her, the less time he'll have to prepare himself for the inevitable, and that is announcing the exact same news to his students. "Hogwarts is not safe at the moment. I… I am unable to protect you."

She sneered. "Rather arrogant of you to assume that I need your protection."

"The children do," he said. "It pains me to admit this, Lady Vulchanova, but it is the truth and it must be said. I am unable to protect myself, let alone my friends, students, and guests."

She suddenly softened and he couldn't tell if it was pity this time or the shock of seeing the great and proud Godric Gryffindor look so openly and unabashedly vulnerable. "What kind of beast is Salazar looking to bring for the centaur tribe leader?"

He swallowed. "That would be a basilisk, my lady. The only beast Salazar cares to study and nurture."

It was also known as the only beast Godric couldn't defeat.


End file.
